


Agent Potter, Dr. Riddle

by ExpectThePatronum



Category: Bones (TV), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: All the Weasleys are mentioned at least once, Bellatrix is mostly sane, Beta Wanted, Draco is an artist, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, F/M, FBI, Harry is done with everyone's shit, I need help, Kinda, M/M, Not Beta Read, Ron likes bugs, Serial Killers, Slow Burn, Tom Is A Genius, Tom and Draco are ridiculous together, draco has a crush, he thinks everyone else is an idiot, most characters from HP mentioned, on hiatus until school lets out because college is kicking my ass, please, some murder, tags all subject to change depending on how things go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-23
Updated: 2018-08-23
Packaged: 2019-07-01 08:44:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15770604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ExpectThePatronum/pseuds/ExpectThePatronum
Summary: Special Agent Harry Potter is assigned to work with world renowned Forensic Anthropologist Tom Riddle to solve difficult murder cases.





	Agent Potter, Dr. Riddle

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t own Harry Potter or Bones! Some of the lines you will see in this story are very close to or taken directly from the T.V. show. I’m following the show’s plot in some places and diverging in others, so some things may look familiar to anyone who is a fan of Bones.
> 
> Tom/Harry is endgame! BUT we'll have quite a long time getting them there, and both will have other relationships along the way.
> 
> Also, just to throw it out there, this is not beta read! I've done my best on my own, but I'm sure there are things I've completely missed. If you see something please let me know so I can fix it. **If you are interested in being a beta for me let me know! I would love you forever and send lots of digital hugs. 
> 
> I'll stop jabbering now. I hope you enjoy!

 

“With all due respect sir, you can’t be serious!”

 

“Agent Potter, I assure you that I am quite serious. As of now you are the agent in charge of liaising between the FBI and the Jeffersonian. You  **will** be working with Dr. Riddle and the other scientists to solve murder cases. Don’t give me that face Potter, you wanted more action. You wanted more interesting. Here you have it. Rodgers retired early-”

 

“He quit because he couldn’t stand working with that arrogant ass!”

 

“Now, now, Potter. Riddle and his team may be...difficult personalities. But they are the best, and when we’ve had smooth relations the rate we’ve managed to solve these murder cases has increased ten-fold. Now hop to it. You are supposed to be meeting Dr. Riddle and the CSI team at the crime scene.”

 

Harry couldn’t stop the heavy sigh, or the muttered “Why me?” from slipping out. 

 

Unfortunately his boss heard. “Because, Potter, you have a particular way of dealing with people. If anyone can make this last long term, it’s you. And if you quit your grumbling, you’ll be moved into an office and out of the bull-pen.”

 

Finally, some good news. “When I quit some time in the next month, remember this conversation sir.”

 

***

Tom Marvolo Riddle, Forensic Anthropologist. Prodigy. A genius in his field. Published again and again for new methods of identifying human remains and discoveries about ancient humans all around the world. Best in the country, perhaps the world. He’s been all around the globe assisting in the aftermath of genocide and natural disasters. Primarily works on the evolution of man, and ancient humans. Solves murder cases in his free time. Considers scaring away FBI agents a perk of the job. The longest it ever took was two months, the shortest three days. 

 

The last one took a bit over a week. He wonders just how long this one will last. 

 

Harry James Potter. A genius, perhaps, in his own field. If Riddle was being generous, which he rarely was. 

 

“Hello? Earth to Tom? Darling please, you hurt me. I crave your attention.”

 

Tom turns to the driver's seat. “My sincerest apologies, sweetheart. However can I make it up to you?”

 

The blond smirked back. “Be nice to this one. I like his eyes. We could use the eye candy after all the old farts they’ve sent to us. And he really doesn’t deserve the attitude.”

 

“You know him?”

 

“His godfather is my mother’s cousin. They tried to get us to play together as children. I, of course, treated him like absolute shit because my father didn’t like his parents and kept calling his godfather a mutt. So be nice long enough for me to make it up to him.”

 

“You just want in his pants. I’ve seen his photo. You have a thing for messy hair.”

 

“Shut up, Riddle.”   
  
“No, wait. It isn’t his cock you want. Well, not in you, anyway. You want him to sit so you can paint his intimate bits and pieces in extreme detail.”

 

“Okay, that’s enough. Go back to ignoring me, it hurt my delicate sensibilities less.”

 

“As you wish, Draco.”

 

***

Cemetery. Did people find it funny to dump a person’s body in a cemetery? Because Harry was not laughing. Especially not with this insufferable man he has to work with. Harry hasn’t even met the man yet and already he’s annoyed. Condescending, arrogant jerk talking down to the FBI techs. IF he doesn’t like how they are doing their job-according to FBI protocol-then he can get his hands dirty and do it himself so far as Harry is concerned. 

 

But Harry is supposed to play nice with the Forensic Anthropologist. Stupid Shacklebolt and his stupid orders. 

 

“Where is the FBI agent I’m supposed to be working with. I do have other things to be doing today.”

 

Ah. So that’s how things were. With gritted teeth Harry called out, “Sorry about that, I had to clear up some issues with the higher-ups before getting out to the scene. I’m Special Agent-”

 

“Harry Potter. Yes, I’m aware. And obviously you know who I am, so let’s cut to the chase, shall we? How were the remains discovered?”

 

Oh, please. Allow Harry. Someone was apparently too good to ask the techs or read the damned file. “They were doing some landscaping. Workers pumped some water out of the pond and one of them saw something. They called us, we called you.”

 

“Lovely.” Harry already could not stand that fake pleasant persona. “Bellatrix, I need you to take water samples and temperature readings from the pond, and samples of the surrounding soil.”

 

“Of course, Dr. Riddle. I’ll begin right away.”

 

“And someone will be taking me out on the pond?”

 

“That would be me, Dr. Riddle.” Harry starts walking over to the second boat so they can reach where the first is already filled with techs using cameras to see the pond floor. 

 

Thankfully Riddle doesn’t say anything else, just looks at everything disdainfully. When they reach the other boat the techs pass over the screen so Harry and Tom can see. 

 

“What exactly am I supposed to be looking at. Aside from the algae?”

 

“Just give it a second. Somehow I doubt you’ll miss it.”

 

The camera shifted again, pushing past the algae that was previously blocking their view. 

 

“Oh. Well then, that’s clearer. I agree with your underqualified techs opinion now. This is definitely a crime scene. I’ll need samples of the sediment in a five meter radius around the body to a depth of ten centimeters as well as the obvious once you are done lowering the level of the pond.”

 

Harry hated his boss. Really. 

 

***

“Alright, now that I have a better view. The body is wrapped and weighted down. Seems to be four-mil flat poly construction sheeting. It would explain why the body didn’t surface during decomposition.”

 

“I’ve double checked, Dr. Riddle. The skeleton is complete, but the skull is in fragments. It’ll take a while to put all the little pieces back together.”

 

“Yes, Bellatrix. And that’s if none of the skull fragments were lost in the pond.”

 

Harry walks over now that he’s finished directing the techs. “What can you tell me?”

 

Riddle sighs. “Not much yet. Female. Young, probably between 18-24 years old. About five-three. I can’t give you race, but she had rather delicate features.”

 

“Anything else to help ID her?”

 

“Well, the Bursitis in the shoulder tells me she was probably a tennis player. You don’t see that in someone so young unless it’s related to athletics.”

 

“Time of death?”

 

“Ehhhh.”

 

“Really? I hear that’s a lovely time to take a walk through the park. Come on, what is “ehhh”?”

 

“It means, cutie, that you need to wait for analysis of the soil, sediment, and water samples. The conditions make it impossible for us to tell the time of death accurately enough to help you, so just wait for the bug and slime guy.”

 

“Bellatrix, bug and slime guy is not the proper title.”

 

“But it makes it easier for the scientifically uneducated.”

 

“Not uneducated, just not a specialist. Pretty sure there’s a difference. And don’t call me cutie.”

 

Riddle ignores the banter. “She doesn’t have any clothing.”

 

“Usually that means sex crime.”

 

“Could also be that she favored natural fibers. They would decompose rather quickly.” Riddle stood up from his position in the mud and surveyed the body from the new vantage. “Okay, tell your little minions they can keep the wrapping around the body, send everything else to my lab. And don’t forget what I said about the silt and sediments earlier. Bellatrix, let’s go.”

 

***

“So, the pond did all kinds of things to speed up decomp. Tons of microbes in the warm water, not to mention the man eating fish. Black carp and koi are not afraid of humans when they are dead.”

 

“Ew.”

 

“Draco, you don’t need to be here. I don’t have a skull for you yet.”

 

“And yet here I am, like the best best friend in the world.”

 

“I didn’t realize we were friends.”

 

“How you wound me, Tom.”

 

“Alright Weasley, what else do you have?”

 

“Er, right, well. I found three larval stages of Tricoptera, Chironimidae-”

 

“Which means, for us more interested in the bones.”

 

“Touchy, touchy. Why is there never any respect. Awful, working for you Riddle. Anyway, it means the body was in the pond for two summers. One winter. You are welcome.”

 

“So spring. Lovely.”

 

“And about your book-”

 

“Once again, none of you were featured in my book. Any parallels are entirely coincidental. Now, can we move on. Murder to solve, and all that.”

 

Draco smirked, “Really, Tom. That’s such a load of crap. We are  **all** in your book. Even the crotchety old FBI agent you  **really** hated.”

 

“Shame, he was fun to annoy. And easy to scare.” Ron and Draco shared a rare look of fear at how delighted that thought seemed to make Bellatrix.

 

“Anyyyway. I found some small bones in the silt the FBI collected.”

 

“So we aren’t talking about the book anymore?”

 

Tom rolled his eyes. It was happening a bit too often to really be proper. “Draco, go paint something if you can’t focus on the murder.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“You really aren’t my type. I don’t do romance. Weasley, the bones?”

 

“Yes, right. I’m guessing Rana Temporaria. That is, frog bones, but I haven’t confirmed yet. Also, there were some gold links in the silt as well. Like, high quality necklace kind of gold links.”

 

“Can we go back to the book now.”

 

“No.”

 

“There was also something in her hand, but I haven’t finished analyzing it yet. Seems to be cellulose.”

 

Draco’s face contorted in confusion. “Paper?”

 

“It’s possible.”

 

Tom spoke up, “I found microscopic sediment embedded in the skull fragments. I’ll need you to swab and identify those, Weasley. Bellatrix, clean the bones. I’ll begin rebuilding the skull myself. We need to get that to Draco as quickly as possible to help the FBI identify our victim.”

 

“Great. I can return to my lavender-scented room. Free of slime and corpse eau de parfum.”

 

“Could have left at any time, Draco!” Tom called over his shoulder as he walked away from the platform and to the desk where he would begin dealing with the skull fragments.

 

He leaned over the table and observed the hundreds of fragments. With gentle hands he manipulated them, fitting tiny pieces together like a puzzle and gluing them together. For hours he stayed there putting the skull back together, pushing past the sleep that dragged at the backs of his eyes. 

 

It was a relief when the final piece fit in place. There was a triangle shaped hole in the Frontal Bone, but he’d used the last of the fragments. With that finished Tom laid his head against the desk and let out a deep breath.

 

***

Bellatrix got in early the next morning and found Dr. Riddle asleep next to the skull, complete with tissue markers. She went ahead and brought him a cup of coffee, black as he always insisted. She preferred hers more mimicking a candy bar in a cup if given the option.

 

The bones were all x-rayed already, but she hadn’t started cataloguing any injuries before going home for the night. Riddle taught her to be meticulous and methodical in her work, double and triple checking everything she saw and labeled on the x-rays before beginning again on the actual bones. Always observing. Always learning. Every little thing told her more about the woman that the skeleton on the table belonged to. 

 

Bellatrix was Dr. Riddle’s lab assistant because she was the best. Every day she proved it, again and again and again. There was always the chance he would replace her with someone else if they proved to be better, he’d been very upfront about that from day one. So Bellatrix would know absolutely everything she possibly could about the victim. 

 

Because he would ask, and she wanted to have the answer.

 

***

“Potter, has Draco explained how this works yet?”

 

Harry, who had just finished a cursory examination of the room, nearly jumped a foot in the air as Riddle stormed into the room and addressed him in that demanding, brisk way of his. 

 

“I was just getting to that, Riddle. This, Potter, is a system that I designed. I created the machine and the computer program myself.” The blond was staring right at Harry, completely ignoring the amusement he knew was on Riddle’s face. “I input the data Tom gives me and generate a 3D image.

 

“What you see now, is the face of our murder victim,” Draco finished, quite proud of himself. He looked absolutely satisfied to see Harry gazing at the image in awe. Riddle caught him mouthing ‘take that’ in his direction before Ron started talking.

 

“So, anyone recognize her?”

 

“Something here...It’s vaguely familiar. Draco, change the racial data. Half African-American, half caucasian.”

 

Riddle paused for a second, studying the new image, “Yes. That’s. That’s closer. Try reducing the tissue depth over the cheekbones and jawline.”

 

Draco fiddled around on his screen and the image corrected. “There. Anything else?”

 

“No. No, that’s all. This fits.”

 

“Wait!” Draco said when he finally looked up. “Isn’t that the girl who was sleeping with the senator? Big scandal a couple years ago? I’m certain I remember my mother commenting about it.” He didn’t mention  **what** exactly his mother was commenting on. He most certainly didn’t agree. 

 

“Her name is Katie Bell,” Harry finally piped in. “She was an only child, left her parents heartbroken when she disappeared. Last seen by a receptionist of Le Hoye Gym downtown around 10 P.M. April 27 two years ago. We found her car still in the parking lot.”

 

“A good memory, Agent Potter.” Bellatrix squealed. That was practically high praise coming from Dr. Riddle and she was jealous. 

 

“Well, I was on the case, spoke to her parents. I’m the one who’s supposed to find her. I was just really hoping it wouldn’t be like this.”

 

“Well, mate. At least you know what happened now,” Ron added, not so helpfully. Bellatrix glared, he sneered back.

 

“Right, then. I suppose I best go inform the family. Coming Riddle?”

 

“Yes, of course.”

 

***

Once again in the car, and once again in the passenger seat, Riddle is  **once again** looking over a case file. “Weasley called. He’s identified the particulates from the victim’s skull as rolled steel, most likely from a sledge-like type hammer. There was also cement and diatomaceous earth.”

 

“Don’t hold several degrees in science over here. Dumb it down for me, would you?”

 

“I thought I was.”

 

“No need to be catty.”

 

“Yes, well. It’s used in all manner of things: insecticide, filtering agents, cleaning abrasive, ceramics. Quite common, really.”

 

“Well, common or not, it is something. I’ll take any clue at this point to nail the son of a bitch that killed her.”

 

“You can’t possibly know whoever killed her was a son of a bitch.”

 

“Are you being intentionally difficult to piss me off and make me quit, or is that an actual statement.”

 

Riddle grinned, a genuine one this time. “Why can it not be both, Agent Potter?”

 

***

Tom and Agent Potter sat opposite the victim’s parents in crackly old armchairs that Tom found he quite liked, surprisingly enough .The couple were pressed up hard against each other, grabbing the other’s hands so hard their knuckles were white. Tom didn’t quite understand the display of emotion after two years now. Certainly they were expecting this kind of news? It seemed rather an obvious conclusion to him. 

 

“You are certain this is our daughter?”

 

What part of his explanation was unsatisfactory? “As I said, we established more than twenty-”

 

“Yes, sir. It’s Katie. We’ve checked everything to be absolutely clear.”

 

“Was it that bastard that did it? Was it the senator?”

 

“The senator is actually a legitimate-”

 

“Unfortunately sir, at the moment I don’t have that information to give to you. It’s too early in the investigation for me to confidently say who I think the killer is at this point. But rest assured, we will explore every avenue and find out who did this to Katie.”

 

“Can. Can you at least tell us if she was in pain? Did she suffer when she died, Agent Potter?”

 

“Given the injuries sustained to her skull-”

 

“No, ma’am. Her death was quite quick. Painless. She didn’t see it coming. Wasn’t even afraid.”

 

It was fascinating to Tom to see the way both parents seemed relieved. Though, he was beyond annoyed with Potter for cutting him off again and again. And of course the changing of the facts. That was unacceptable. 

 

“Mrs. Bell, could you tell us what it was that Katie wore on her necklace?” Tom shot a look at Potter as he asked, demanding silently that he not be interrupted again. Harry seemed not to have any problems this time. Sentimental idiot.

 

“A military medal. The Bronze star. My husband fought and was awarded the star many years ago. Katie. He-”

 

“I gave it to her for good luck. Seems it didn’t work as I had hoped.”

 

“Thank you both for your time.”

 

Potter and Tom both shook their hands before exiting the house. Once outside Tom began, “Those people deserve to know what happened to their daughter. The truth, not some pretty lie to make them feel better.”

 

“No,” Potter said, voice hard and unyielding, “They deserve the peace, after two years of pain, that my lie gave them. It won’t do them any good to know that she suffered, it will only make this harder for them.”

 

“Honestly, I don’t understand why it should be any harder. Don’t they realize after so much time, that this was the most likely answer?”

 

“Really, Riddle. Do you even have a heart?”

 

“Not according to my last partner, no. I’ve lived quite a full, successful life without one.”

 

Harry wanted nothing more than to slam his own head against the steering wheel in that moment. 

 

***

Tom was going over the damage to Katie Bell’s hands when Ron Weasley ran into the room with a clipboard. “She was being treated for anxiety, depression, and nausea. I found out that she was on Lorazepam, Chlordiazepoxide, and Meclizine Hydrochloride. Did you ever confirm that those small bones as frog bones?”

 

“No, not yet.”

 

“Check them for me. I have a hunch.”

 

“We’re scientists, Weasley, we don’t do conjecture and hunches.”

 

“A theory then. In a family as big as mine, you learn a bit about these things.”

 

Bellatrix moved the microscope so that it enlarged and projected the image of the small bones up onto a screen for all three of them to see.

 

“These aren’t frog bones. Look at the differences here, and here Bellatrix. Do you see them?”

 

“Yes, Dr. Riddle. These are fetal remains, aren’t they?”

 

“She was pregnant. My mom used some of these medicines when she was pregnant with Ginny. And my sister-in-law did as well.”

 

“Yes, both of you. Malleus, incus, stapes. These are fetal ear bones. Not very far along yet.”

 

“Should I try to get a DNA reading so we can prove paternity, Dr. Riddle?”

 

“Try it, Bellatrix. Hopefully there will be enough genetic material here for you to get a good result.”

 

Weasley started pacing back and forth in front of them. “So, the senator found out he got his intern pregnant and killed her before it could ruin him politically.”

 

“Mr. Weasley, I do not condone this baseless guessing in my lab. There is no evidence to support that yet. We work only with the facts here. I will not allow you to cloud our judgement and skew the direction of our investigation.”

 

“It’s a plausible theory. And if it’s true, the senator has the connections to get away with it. And an investigation like this? Potter won’t be the head of it for very long unless the FBI higher-ups are sure he’ll play the political cards the way they want. The case will end there. They won’t risk the political fallout over a low-level intern.”

 

Weasley left, following Bellatrix out to continue working. Riddle watched, hating that Weasley was right and that his baseless theory seemed feasible even without any evidence at all. 

 

He refused to work like that. 

 

***

“Come on, Tom. Let’s go get a drink or something. You haven’t stopped working since we started this case. You need to take a step back.”

 

“Draco. What if Potter is right?”

 

“About what?”

 

“Earlier, he implied, well, more than implied really, that I am heartless. Emotionless. Even that I am bad at interacting with people.”

 

“Well, you are a bit cold sometimes. You aren’t necessarily bad at interacting this people, it’s just when you aren’t manipulating for your own gain you tend to be completely awkward. Some people like that about you. It’s endearing.”

 

“You like that about me. No one else does.”

 

“Please. That isn’t true.”

 

“I can’t hold a meaningful relationship with anyone. The last few I’ve had have been entirely physical because I have a pretty face. Or you. And you are just arrogant and cruel enough on your own to like me. But strangely enough, because it is a complete contradiction, you are also unreasonably compassionate given your past. I think that’s really why you put up with me. But I don’t have those things.”

 

“Tom-”   
  


“Draco, if you stop sugarcoating and look at it completely objectively, my most meaningful relationships-the ones I make entirely on my own and have no issues navigating-are with dead people. They make more sense than living people with all there sentimentality and easily hurt feelings. I can’t make sense of people when I’m not trying to manipulate them, as you pointed out. And I’ve been trying not to just be the manipulative ass I was in my youth.

 

“I understand Katie Bell, and I’ve never even met her. I understand her better than I understand her parents, who I met and actually spoke with. When she was seven years old she fell, probably falling off a bike or scooter, and she broke her wrist. And she got back on the damn thing again before the wrist was healed and broke it a second time. 

 

“She fought against her murderer. Hard. And she was strong from all her tennis playing. There was evidence of all kinds of defensive wounds. Even though she was medicated for depression that was so bad she could barely get herself out of bed in the morning. She was a survivor. She didn’t want to die. She wanted to live, and she fought with everything she had to do it. Against the depression and the murderer. It isn’t fair that she lost. She shouldn’t have lost.”

 

***

Tom needed a sample of the senator’s DNA to compare to the fetal bones in case Bellatrix was actually able to get what they needed. So he was flying solo. He’d called a cab to take him to the government building the senator’s office was in and found a secretary to call the man out to meet him. 

 

The man came out, along with another man he worked closely with, a Mr. Smith. Tom did not like Mr. Smith, but he wasn’t particularly fond of most people as it was. 

 

“And why is it that the FBI sent out you instead of an agent to speak with us?”

 

“Because I am the one that discovered the fetal bones that told us that Katie Bell was pregnant. The only real question is which one of you two is the father. We need to know if the child was a result of an affair with the senator or a product of the less scandalous relationship Mr. Smith had with her as her boyfriend. So, are you willing to submit to a DNA test?”

 

“Senator, given how sensitive this topic is, I’d advise you not do or say anything else without your attorney.”

 

“Good advice, I should think. Smith, we have a meeting soon.”

 

The senator walked away from Tom, tossing his gum in the trash as he went. Tom, of course, would not let such an excellent opportunity pass him by. He followed close behind, bagging the rather went, minty substance to be tested once he returned to the lab.

 

“What are you going?”

 

“Gum is a perfectly acceptable source of DNA for the test I need. I must thank you for your cooperation.” Tom gave a small bow and walked away.

 

“You can’t do that!” The senator yelled after him. Then turned to his companion, “He can’t do that, can he? Doesn’t he need a warrant?”

 

Smith came up behind Tom and grabbed the arm holding the evidence bag. Years of reflex and instinct ingrained from the orphanage kicked in and the man was on the ground clutching his stomach rather quickly. 

 

“If you have any more questions I’ll be in touch. Have a nice afternoon, gentlemen.”

 

***

“Your job is to keep an eye on him! How is it that he was able to harass a senator on your watch? And you, I could place you under arrest for threatening a senator.”

 

“I don’t recall threatening anyone, I simply informed them of the situation and asked for their cooperation.”

 

“Potter, I put you in charge of this team specifically so these things wouldn’t happen. I was under the impression that you were my best agent.”   
  


Potter, looking thoroughly chastised managed a disgruntled, “Yes, sir.”

 

“That’s hardly fair. Potter didn’t even know I was going to procure DNA evidence.”

 

“That’s exactly the point. HIs job is to know. His **job** is to keep **you** from pushing the boundaries too far. We can only make so many exceptions for you and your squints.”

 

“I beg your pardon? What is a squint?”

 

Potter muttered under his breath, “Just leave it. You’re making it worse.”

 

Kingsley ignored the both of them and used the intercom. “Send in Agent Wourst. I’ve warned everyone who has had the privilege of working on this team that they will lose it if they make these mistakes. You are no exception to the rule either, Potter.”

 

Potter muttered again, so low Tom could hardly hear it, “Funny, I don’t remember being warned about that when you forced me to take on this great  **privilege** .” He said privilege in such a way that Tom was certain he thought the position was anything but. 

 

The door opened rather abruptly. “Yes, sir?”

 

“In the morning I am announcing the organization of a team to investigate Katie Bell’s death. Potter, you will be keeping your nose as far away as humanly possible. Turn over all the case files to Agent Wourst by tomorrow morning and get your ass in gear.”

 

“No hard feelings Potter,” the new agent said in the most smug way. Tom was not impressed.   
  


“Of course not, Wourst. It’s all part of the job.” Potter clearly did not like this other man. Perhaps Tom should elbow him in the kidney too?”

 

Wourst left, smirking too much to just be happy about getting a good opportunity. He was enjoying Potter’s loss. 

 

Potter let out a great, heaving sigh. “At least Riddle was able to confirm that Bell and the senator were having an affair.”

 

“I did?”   
  


“He wouldn’t have freaked out and denied you the DNA test if he wasn’t”

 

“I thought you determined that there wasn’t enough DNA to test?”

 

“Oh, I see. Bellatrix did indeed determine that there wasn’t enough DNA for us to test, but the senator didn’t know that.”

 

The senior agent sighed. “Potter, just make sure to keep him out of trouble from now on, and hand over the files.”

 

“Yes, sir. Let’s go, Riddle.”

 

“It wasn’t my intention to get you in trouble.”

 

“Yes, well. It’s hardly the first time. I tend not to follow orders very well.”

 

Tom smirked. “Oh, really? I could never have guessed.”

 

“Shut up. I’ll take you back to the lab.”

 

“Or, you could prove just how much of a rule breaker you really are and we could go poke around the stalker’s house?”

 

“Right you are Riddle. Let’s go ‘poke around.’”

 

***

“Look, this particular rendering is a little rough, but you get the general idea.” Draco did not look pleased. 

 

“So, the skull trauma was not the cause of death. First, Katie was stabbed. At least five times, with a military issue knife.”

 

Draco picked up, “The scenario I just finished shows that it probably wasn’t until the third or fourth stab that Katie was fatally wounded.”

 

“How?”

 

“The defensive wounds on her hands, Potter. They indicate she was fighting off her attacker for a period of time before she stopped after the first two or three penetrations.”

 

“That one there, Draco. That’s probably the fatal stab wound.”

 

“That, Potter, is when Katie would have stopped fighting back.”

 

“I believe that her distal phalanges, the tips of her finger bones,” Riddle clarified while looking over at Harry, “were damaged by the knife when the killer used it to remove her fingerprints.

 

“The damage to her skull suggests that the murderer used a heavy hammer, at least 20 pounds, to strike her as she was laying against the cement floor. That’s how the particulates Weasley found were embedded in the skull. That is the most logical explanation for what occurred. There is no way we can call this a crime of passion.”

 

“Katie never saw the attack coming. Why smash her face and cut off her fingertips? Strip away her clothing and her jewelry,” Draco questioned.

 

“Why sink her body,” Bellatrix added.

 

“Yes. It is apparent now that the murderer put more time and effort into obscuring Katie’s identity than he did in actually killing her.”

 

Ron piggy-backed on Riddle’s declaration, “And even if Katie was ever identified the murderer planted evidence on her body to lead us in the wrong direction. The little booklets Tom and Harry found at the stalker’s house match the trace cellulose I found in Katie’s hands.”

 

Draco piped in again, “And the military knife used to kill her, the military cemetary where her body was found in the pond. It’s even more misdirection.”

 

“Sound like any politicians you know, Harry,” Ron finished. 

 

“You expect me to declare was on a U.S. senator, in a case that isn’t even really mine anymore, based off a possibly unreliable holographic scenario that ‘makes the most logical sense’ but may not actually even be accurate? You might as well throw in that you had a vision in your magic crystal ball.”

 

“It’s not magic, Potter. It’s science. It is a perfectly logical recreation of the evidence we’ve been presented. Don’t insult my team by invalidating what we have done here.”

 

“All due respect, Dr. Riddle, this isn’t any more reliable than my gut feeling about who committed the murder.”

 

Bellatrix pushed her way into the argument, “Every good hypothesis withstands testing. This one has. That’s what makes it a good one.”

 

“No. What you have is a dead girl and a senator. This is exactly why Kingsley was mad about you going out in the field. None of you have convinced me. This could be anyone.”

 

***

Tom found himself at the shooting range, taking out his frustration on paper targets in a shape that generally seems human. 

 

“I thought I’d find you here.” Great. Potter, again. How much could the man possibly piss Tom off in one day? “You know, all the training makes sense. The shooting, the martial arts. Boxing classes every week like clockwork. It’s how you cope. You know better than anyone how fragile life is. You did watch someone murder your parents, after all.”

 

Tom bristled. “Oh, I’m sure I’m not the only one. After all, military sniper. One of the best in the world, even. FBI agent always hunting down murderers. And, of course, the mysterious disappearance of your parents when you were barely more than a toddler.”

 

“Done your research, have you?”

 

“Of course. I’ve often been called ruthless in the pursuit of knowledge. I’ve done a thorough investigation of everyone I regularly work with. One can never be to careful, with a past like mine.”

 

“Yes, well, with a past like mine as you so kindly pointed out, chasing killers and even entering a killing field myself, you learn a few things. And what I can tell you right now, the senator is not a killer.”

 

“Oh, and the stalker is?”   
  


“Unhinged man obsessed with girl who doesn’t want anything to do with him? It’s no guarantee, but I’d put money on it being the stalker over the senator any day.”

 

“One of us is wrong about this,” Tom said right in Potter’s face. When had they gotten so close that Tom could feel Potter’s breath on his face? “Maybe we’re both wrong. But I know, and you know, that if that worthless excuse for a human being weren’t a senator then you’d be knocking down doors and flooding his basement with FBI techs looking for evidence that he is the killer. You caved to the political pressure.”

 

“You think we...what was the term your superior used? Squints? You think we squints don’t solve murders, that our theories are not as sound as the gut feeling of an experienced cop? Perhaps you are correct. Prove it.”

 

Tom slapped a hand against Potter’s surprisingly close chest and walked away. 

 

  
***

Harry sat in his office, reviewing the old files. Rewatching the home movies of Katie he’d gotten years ago from her parents. They all looked so happy together. Like there was nothing in the world that could touch their bubble.

 

Unfortunately appearances weren’t everything. 

 

A knock on the door pulled Harry from his thoughts, attention turned to Riddle leaning casually against the door frame. “Bellatrix said you wanted to see me.”

 

“Er, yeah. About that.” The screen laughed at them. “They look happy, don’t they?”

 

“Potter. I’m very busy-”

 

“Right. You don’t do family talk, do you? Well, Riddle, sometimes partners have to share things. It builds trust. And you’re the one who seems to want to be involved in every part of the case like FBI partners work, so that trust is kind of important.”

 

He sneered. “Potter, not once in this entire investigation have we been partners.”

 

“Right. Excuse the assumption that we are anywhere near equals in this playing field. Anyway.” He picks up a paper from the desk and extends it to Riddle. “You were right earlier, if we weren’t dealing with a Senator I would have gone down to his basement much earlier in the investigation. I wasn’t scared, but I wasn’t being particularly brave either, was I?”

 

“You got the warrant.”

 

“Katie deserves for every avenue to be explored.”

 

***

The Senator’s house crawled with reporters that night. Riddle stood outside the building, waiting for the shoe to drop. Potter was around somewhere, doing whatever FBI agents do at these things. 

 

The attorney, Smith, came over after speaking with the Senator and his wife for several minutes. “This is a big mistake, Dr. Riddle. It could ruin you.”

 

He walked away before hearing a muttered reply.

 

One of the techs brought out a hammer in an evidence bag. “It’s good they found the hammer.”

 

“But they didn’t find anything else, Riddle. No blood, no diatomaceous earth. We needed physical evidence, the murder weapon, and the crime scene.”

 

***

 

“A toast, for catching the murderous bastard!”

 

“But they didn’t arrest him yet!”

 

“Bellatrix, when they prove it’s the murder weapon they’ll arrest him. We did it. Now drink.”

 

They all drank from the beakers Ron passed around. He made the shittiest alcohol, and Tom couldn’t even be mad about it. 

 

“The hammer isn’t enough for them to get him. He’s going to get away with it. Maybe Potter was right about our usefulness outside the lab.”

 

Bellatrix looked about ready to kill at the expression of self doubt in her idol, but Ron spoke first, “Don’t worry Riddle. Take some guidance from the saints. I read through that little booklet you took from the stalker. Look here,” he said and passed it over to Draco. 

 

“Albertus Magnus, Patron Saint of Scientists.”

 

Bellatrix swallowed hard against the alcohol and choked out, “I thought Magnus was the patron saint of fishmongers.”

 

“Common mistake, but two totally different entities. Albertus-”

 

“Fish! Of course!”

 

“Huh?” “Pardon?” Ron and Draco spoke at the same time.

 

“Weasley, you said earlier that diatomaceous earth could be used as a filtering agent, correct? Like for tropical fish?”

 

“Yeah, I guess. Why does that matter?”

 

“The stalker mentioned that Smith kept fish.”

 

“Great, darling, you figured it out. Why can’t this wait until morning?”

 

“Because he read the warrant at the Senator’s house. He knows what we’re looking for. He’ll destroy the evidence by morning. Call Potter, tell him to meet me there.”

 

“Where’s there? He didn’t specify, did he?”

 

“Draco, since when does Riddle ever explain to us little folk.”

 

“Don’t insult Dr. Riddle like that Weasley.”

 

Draco was left the task of calling Potter, as both Bellatrix and the Weasel were too busy running around the lab like children. 

 

“Listen, Potter. Riddle had an epiphany.”

 

***

The Uber driver took Tom right up to Smith’s front door. He looked in the windows, uncaring of how nuts he must appear to the neighbors. Smith hadn’t bothered to shut the blinds. He stood in a room full of tanks of fish, pouring gasoline out of a big red container. “Stop! It’s illegal to destroy evidence from a federal investigation.”

 

Smith showed no signs of listening, of course. Tom found an ugly looking garden gnome and shattered the glass portion of the front door so he could unlock it from the inside. His hand stung where bits of glass caught his skin, but he ignored it. There wasn’t any time. 

 

“This is a private residence, doctor. You wouldn’t happen to have a warrant, would you?”

 

“I don’t need one. I’m working with the FBI. I can enter if I have probable cause, which I clearly do.” He finally found the room he needed. “I can see you destroying evidence, Mr. Smith.”

 

“I’m cleaning my fish room. Since when is that a crime?”

 

“This linoleum looks new. I’d bet there’s concrete underneath. I’d even bet that it matches the particulates found in Katie Bell’s skull.”

 

“I would recommend you leave. These cleaning chemicals are very dangerous.”

 

“Is that what the kids are calling gasoline these days? Come on, Smith. You know I can’t let you destroy any evidence.”

 

“Tell me, Riddle. Just how are you going to stop me?”

 

“Oh, I’ll stop you. I’m called genius for a reason.”

 

“Are you going to will the fire away? Use the force, perhaps?”

 

Tom shot him with the revolver hidden in his pocket, enjoying more than he should the cries of pain from Smith. “There is something I don’t understand. You weren’t jealous. And it wasn’t a crime of passion. So what? Why did you kill young, beautiful Katie Bell?”

 

“Tom?”

 

For the love of a God he didn’t believe in. “I appreciate that you are here to help, but at the moment I’m perfectly safe and don’t need any protection. What I do need is some help with Mr. Smith here, so would you go put pressure on his wound until the police arrive, Oliver?” 

 

The stalker walked over and crouched down. “Is he the one who killed Katie?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Then I’m actually fine with him bleeding to death. Could I maybe not put pressure on his wound?”

 

Potter walked up behind them. “How about I put it this way, Oliver. If Smith bleeds out, I’m going to have to arrest Tom and he’ll go on trial for attempted murder. You wouldn’t want that, would you?”

 

“No, no.”

 

“And you know, Oliver, that pressure can be very painful.” Potter had a smirk on his face as he said it that TOm hadn’t imagined him capable of. 

 

“Potter I don’t understand. The evidence is all in front of me, but I still cannot puzzle out why he did it.” He shook his head. “Nevermind. Motive is irrelevant in my part of the job.”

 

“Well, Riddle, he did it to save his job.”

 

“What?”

 

“If the Senator was involved in that kind of scandal he’d lose the beltway fast track. It’s a tough town for politics,” he explained, reaching forward to take the gun from Tom. 

 

“I suppose.”

 

“And you know, in the future I think we should leave the shooting to me, okay Riddle? Less chance of murder charges and all.”

 

“But I’m an excellent shot.”

 

***

“It was a beautiful funeral.”

 

“Er, yeah. It was. You know, without you they never would have known what happened to their daughter. Trust me, that’s worse than the truth.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“My parent’s disappeared when I was six. Nobody knows what happened to them.”

 

“I’m sorry. I think not knowing like that would drive me insane.”   
  


“Yeah, it isn’t exactly pleasant.”

 

Fred slid two more shots their way, already familiar with Harry’s tragic backstory. George was in the back frying up food for the two. They only had this restaurant because of Harry, so they tried to look out for him when they could. 

 

Riddle looked decidedly uncomfortable. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “My parents were murdered in front of me when I was five. They never did catch the man who did it.”

 

“Don’t we just have the most cheerful of childhoods between us.”

 

“I suppose we do.”

 

Harry lifted his shot up to Riddle. There was some pause before riddle clinked the glass with his own and they both downed the rest of the alcohol as George brought them food.

 

“I don’t know why you chose this type of work. I can guess, but I’ve heard how much you hate psychology. I’m here because. Well. My parents are part of it. I never wanted anyone else to go through what I have.”

 

“What’s the other part?”

 

“When I was still an active sniper I killed a lot of people. I’d like to catch at least that many murderers. My friend Hermione thinks it’s a way of me soothing a guilty conscience.”

 

“Like you said, I hate psychology. But I’ll help you even that score anyway.”


End file.
